


A Fanciful Dream

by AceDetective



Series: A Fanciful Dream [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Amnesia, Fantasy AU, Fatherly Patton, It's developing, Logan is doing his best, M/M, Magic AU, Memory Loss, Near Death Experiences, Past Character Death, Patton adopts Virgil, Prinxiety - Freeform, Slow Burn, Slow slow slow burn, Thomas is Roman's father, Virgil and Roman have a dynamic loosely based on Merlin, Virgil is being dragged alone for the ride, Will eventually happen, patton is the best dad, royal au, traumatic events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20445350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceDetective/pseuds/AceDetective
Summary: Virgil could say with certainty that he was no prince. Found by King Thomas’ chef, lost and with no memory of who he was, Virgil spent his childhood running errands in the halls of the castle. When a young King visits and claims Virgil is his brother, Virgil must determine if this is truth or a young King’s hopeful dream.





	1. A Stormy Night

The chef shivered as a gust of wind blew in his face. The air nipped at his nose as he dragged his feet through the muddy snow that lined the dirt road. Patton wrapped his cloak around his torso, with hope it would block out some of the wind assaulting him.

“A little further, Patton,” he murmured.

Patton could see the outline of the town’s inn. Before he set out on his journey, his Ma made him write to the Innkeeper, requesting a bed be saved for him and for that, Patton was grateful. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into a warm bed and sleep the night away.

* * *

A trip from Sandres’ outer villages to the King’s Castle wasn’t easy, and in winter, only done out of absolute necessity. On any normal year, Patton waited until the spring’s warmth melted away the winter’s snow, before he visited the outer village his family lived in, but this year his visit couldn’t wait. Ma fell ill at the start of winter and Pa needed help caring for his younger siblings and the family home. 

Now Ma was well again and able to help Pa in whatever he needed. Patton would’ve waited for spring to come to make his return, but he needed to return to the castle. The Prince’s eighth birthday was fast approaching. The young Prince would be devastated if Patton returned too late for the celebration and Patton couldn’t bear to upset the boy. Patton was the only chef in the castle who could make the Prince’s favorite treat afterall, and the King only allowed it on special occasions.

King Thomas was perhaps too strict about the boy’s health, but Patton knew the King loved his son very much.

The inn Patton approached was about halfway between the castle and his family’s village. On most trips, Patton arrived at the inn before sunset, but with a glance at the luminous moon, Patton knew he was very late. This trip posed so much more difficulty than others he’d made over the years.

A journey of this length was one Patton would never make on foot by choice. Whenever he made the trip, it took three or four days on horseback. He’d begun this journey on horseback and preferred to have finished it the same way, if not for this afternoon.

Patton’s mare, Daisy, was always an anxious creature. She had been on edge the entire day and was scared away by a large red dragon that flew over them during their lunch break. The mare ran too fast for Patton to follow. All he could do was watch as the dragon, with a small creature dangling in its large claw as it flew north, Daisy already out of sight.

It had pained Patton, but he couldn’t waste time searching for Daisy for too long. If he had, he’d be stranded in a field for the night and Patton knew better than to chance a winter’s night with no shelter.

Patton wished he still had Daisy and knew she was safe. His feet were numb from the hours of walking and he’d have liked to arrive in the town much before now.

A small cough drew Patton from his thoughts. No one else should have been out at this hour, especially in the current weather. Patton saw no one on the path as he walked, but stopped to check again. At the edge of the read, there was a slightly larger pile of snow, one Patton previously overlooked.

Could someone be hiding behind it?

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Patton watched the pile of snow for a reaction. The snow pile shook with another cough and a patch of white snow gave way to purple. Patton’s eyes widened and he rushed forward, dropping to his knees to brush the snow away. As more snow came off, Patton realized there was a child beneath the snow.

The child, a small boy who couldn’t have been older than eight, curled in on himself. He let out a small whine when Patton brushed snow out of his dark brown hair.

Patton picked up the boy with care. Patton shivered as the boy’s cold cheek rested against his neck. Patton adjusted his grip on the boy, mindful of how stiff the boy’s limbs were. Once the boy was safely in his arms, Patton pulled his cloak to cover the boy as well.

He started walking once more, hastening his pace to get to the inn sooner. Patton needed to get the boy warm again before he froze to death.

“Can you hear me, kiddo?” Patton asked, “I’m going to get you nice and toasty, don’t worry.”

The boy let out a small noise, nuzzling his head into the warmth of Patton’s chest. Patton let out a sigh in relief, hoping the boy was reacting to his voice.

As they approached the inn, Patton used his foot to open the door, trying not to drop the boy. 

“Ah, Patton! I was wondering when you’d arrive,” the innkeeper called out from where he was sweeping. He turned, “How is your M- Is that a child? Patton, what happened!”

The innkeeper dropped his broom and ran over to the pair. The man paused as the boy shivered and frowned at his red face and blue lips. He looked up at Patton and pursed his lips, observing similar traits in Patton.

“I found him in the snow, Daniel.”

“Go over to the fireplace and warm up,” Daniel instructed. “I can get you two some of my boys’ old clothes. And for hell’s sake, take off those boots before you lose your damn toes! Your Ma will kill me!”

Patton kicked off his boots and carried the boy over to the fireplace. He took off his damp cloak and waited for Daniel to return.

“It’s going to be okay, kiddo,” Patton promised.

-

“Patton, you should get some rest,” Daniel draped a blanket over the young man’s shoulder.

Patton looked up from where he sat beside the sleeping child in the bed. He sighed, shoulders slouching.

“I know . . . but I don’t think I could. What if something happens?”

Daniel sighed and rubbed his brow, “You’ve had a rough day, rest for the night and write the King in the morning. Things will only seem worse if you’re tired. Now, get your bottom in that bed.”

Patton glanced at the sleeping boy, tucked safely into the bed. Patton didn't want to sleep yet, in case the boy woke up, but his eyes burned with the effort of staying awake. Daniel was right, he needed rest after the day he'd had. But Patton knew if he tried to sleep, the guilt of the child possibly waking up alone and frightened would keep him awake.

"Look, Patton, I'll keep a vigil. You go to sleep and I'll wake you if the boy stirs," Daniel promised, motioning to the other bed in the room. "Get some rest. Neither of you can set out for days, not in the shape you arrived in."

Patton frowned, "Alright . . . but-"

"No buts, Patton. Go to bed," Daniel insisted.

Patton waited a moment before getting up from the chair and going to the other bed in the room. He glanced over again, to see Daniel sitting down in his place and tucking a lock of the boy's hair behind his ear.

"That doesn't look like going to bed, Patton," Daniel warned without looking up.

Patton smiled and sat on the edge of the bed, taking off the slippers Daniel loaned to him to warm his feet. He stretched his arms and got under the sheets, resting his head on the soft pillow.

-

Patton slept soundly through the night, waking when sun rays slipped through the curtains and shone on his face. Daniel was true to his word and sat in the chair beside the boy's bed, head thrown back, where he must have fallen asleep in the night. Patton smiled fondly and sat up. The ache that filled his body from yesterday's travel was nearly gone. He had barely noticed the ache last night, focused on caring for the child once he had discovered him, but that it was gone, he knew it had been there.

"Daniel?" he called quietly.

Patton threw aside the sheets and stood from the bed, before turning to remake the bed. Patton was never one to leave a place he stayed a mess, not without good reason to and there was no reason to repay Daniel's help by leaving the innkeeper a mess to pick up once Patton had left the inn for the castle.

"Daniel?"

The innkeeper stirred in his sleep and slowly blinked his eyes.

"Patton? What time is it?"

"Morning," Patton replied. "Your boys will be looking for you. I can watch him from here. Do you mind lending me some parchment and a quill? I need to write to the King."

"Of course," Daniel got up from the chair. "Poor thing slept through the night, didn't stir once while I watched him."

Patton sighed, "I hope he wakes soon, I don't want to leave him until I know he's got somewhere safe."

Daniel bit his lip, "Well, if you don't figure it out, I can take the lad for a while at least. Till spring."

"Thank you, Daniel," Patton sat down in the chair and watched as Daniel left the room.

Patton turned away from the doorway once Daniel disappeared and studied the boy's face. The boy showed no sign of waking up but looked much better this morning than he had looked last night. It was a relief, knowing the boy would be okay for a while. He was so small. So, hurt.

Daniel returned shortly, carrying with him a basket of fabric with the parchment, quill, and ink placed on top.

"Your clothes are dry, though I've included a few spare sets since my boy told me your mare wasn't in our stables."

Patton pressed his lips together tightly at the reminder, "Daisy . . . ran off yesterday and I couldn't keep up to find here. Not without risking a night in that cold."

Daniel frowned, "You've no way back to the King's castle?"

Patton took the basket from Daniel's arms and placed it on his lap, "No, not yet. I'm informing him in my letter . . . The Prince will be so upset if I miss his celebrations though . . ."

Daniel scoffed and shook his head, "Patton, of course, that's what you're worried about. Making the trip back to the castle is dangerous on foot, especially now. If the King wants you to return on time, he'll send for you."

"I suppose you're right, Daniel. Thank you," Patton picked up the parchment from the basket.

Daniel nodded and left the room once more, to continue with his morning duties. When he was gone, Patton emptied out the basket, to look over the boy's outfit from last night. The clothes supplied by Daniel were a bit too loose and Patton wanted to see if he could mend more of the supplied outfits before the boy woke up and needed to wear them. 

"Hmm, that's odd," Patton touched a charred tear on the fabric. "How'd this happen, kiddo?"

Patton could tell the outfit was once beautiful, but was now charred and ripped to shreds. The fabric was rich, worth far more than any outfit Patton had worn in his life. Perhaps the boy was a merchant's son? And was lost in the heavy snowfall?

The outfit was a beautiful shade of purple, even with the charred marks. Patton wanted to save what he could for the boy, but there wasn't enough undamaged fabric to make more than a scarf out of. No mending could fix the damage done by the flames that ruined the fabric.

With a frown, Patton set the outfit aside and picked the quill to write to the King. His Majesty needed to know of his delay, so he could inform the kitchen staff to continue without Patton until his return. With that, Patton wrote his letter to the King, detailing the events of the day before and informing him of the boy's injuries.

It was then that Patton remembered the dragon that scared Daisy away. If the boy was injured by the dragon . . . Why was he so far north? Unless, the dragon was one of the Witch's and for the boy's sake, Patton shook the thought from his head. He wrote of the possibility to the King. If it was true, King Thomas would know better than he did and could decide on what action to take.

Patton hoped his musing was wrong. The boy looked Prince Roman's age, too young to have lost all of his first teeth.

The boy let out a low moan and Patton froze. He looked over to see the boy sitting up in bed, looking around dazed.

“H-hello?”

The terror in the boy’s voice was clear. He scooted closer to the other side of the bed, away from Patton, and gripped the blankets with white knuckles.

Patton set down the pen, “Hey kiddo, are you feeling okay?”

The boy nodded his head.

“That’s good, you had me worried,” Patton smiled softly. “Are you hungry?”

The boy nodded.

“I’ll go whip something up for you then. Do you want to come?”

The boy shook his head.

“Okay, kiddo. How does soup sound?”

The boy nodded.

“Alrighty, I’ll be right back.”

Patton stood from the desk and went out the door. Daniel gave him permission to cook for the boy whenever he woke up. Once the boy ate, Patton planned on trying to find out where he was from.

“Th-thank you!” the boy called hesitantly after Patton.

-

Patton watched as the boy shoveled spoonful after spoonful of beef stew into his mouth. The boy barely stopped to breathe between bites, choosing to eat the stew in front of him at such a pace, Patton feared he would become ill. The boy couldn’t have been on the road long enough to be this hungry. How long was he wandering on his own?

“Kiddo, are you feeling any better?”

The boy swallowed, “A little, sir.”

“Oh!” Patton gasped. “I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Patton.”

The boy stared at Patton for a moment, eyes not entirely focused on the man before him. The boy’s lips pursed in concentration. After a few quiet moments, Patton realized the boy’s expression distorted to one of horror.

“I’m - I’m - I don’t know!” the boy cried out.

The boy’s spoon clinked as he dropped it into the half-empty bowl. Tears pooled in the boy’s eyes and spilled down his cheeks. He let out a wail with the realization he didn’t know his own name or where he was from.

Patton came forward and moved the bowl onto the bedside table, before scooping the boy into his arms. The young boy buried his face in Patton’s shoulder and screamed, chest heaving as he continued to cry. Patton held him close and rubbed the boy’s back as he continued to cry.

“I’ve got you, you’re okay. I’ll take care of you until I can get you home. It’s okay, kiddo.”

Patton rocked the boy as he cried. Patton frowned as he looked down at the small boy, crying out of desperation for a life he couldn’t remember.


	2. A Return

The young man sat at his desk, brow furrowed as he looked over the letter he had received from Patton. It left him with an uneasy flutter in his stomach. His head chef described one of the Witch’s dragons in his letter.

There was no doubt in his mind. Only her dragons would travel North. The few dragons that she did not control avoided the North, frightened of falling into her control. So if it were one of the Witch’s dragons why did she send it into the South? The only Kingdom south of Sandres rarely interacted with outsiders.

There was always a chance he was mistaken, he supposed. He hoped he and Patton both were. Patton merely found a child with dragon injuries by chance. What would the Witch want with a child? It had to be a coincidence.

"Papa!"

A small boy ran into the room, followed by two disheveled servants. The boy leaped onto his father's lap and stood on his knees, holding up a tooth.

"Papa, Papa look! I lost a tooth!"

"My apologies, King Thomas," one of the servants bowed before him. "The young Prince refused to wait until he finished his breakfast to show you."

The boy frowned, "It's not as good as Pattie's, Papa! When does Pattie come home?"

"Roman, that's unkind," King Thomas warned. "Head Chef Patton will return when his mother is well, you'll have to wait."

Prince Roman frowned, "But my birthday is next week! Pattie has to be home!"

The King sighed, "I'm aware, but I cannot force his return. Now, there is an important matter I must attend to, go finish your breakfast. You have lessons with the Noble Joan this morning."

"But Papa-"

"I said go, Roman. If there is time, we can spend time together after supper."

Roman's frown deepened and he looked down as he climbed out of his father's lap. He glanced at the tooth in his hand and set it down on his father's desk. Without looking up, Roman reached out for one of his servants' hands and allowed himself to be guided out of the study.

King Thomas watched his son go, a frown carving into his face. If he were not King, there would be time for him to dote on all of Roman's childish whims, but Thomas was the King. Being King of Sandres required sacrificing things like time with his only child. 

The lost time would be worth it when he could hand down a safe, well-run Sandres to Roman. 

He turned back to his desk and opened the middle drawer. In it, sat a small wooden box with "Roman" carved in it in elegant script. Thomas opened the box and gently placed the tooth inside, alongside the other first teeth Roman had lost over the years. King Thomas smiled fondly as he looked at the small pile representing his son's growth. After a moment, he shut the box and returned it to its place in his drawer.

With all distractions gone, the King reread the letter. The best course of action would be to send a carriage to pick up Patton and the boy. A carriage would allow a safe return to the castle and allow Thomas to meet the child the Witch supposedly had interest in.

King Thomas stood from his desk and left his study to make arrangements.

-

Patton kept the boy tucked into his side as they watched the carriage approach. Though the boy had recovered from the cold, Patton didn’t want to risk his health when they would be traveling. A few days had passed since Patton sent the letter and the King had sent word of a carriage being sent to return him to the castle. Patton knew his Majesty was interested in meeting the boy, to see if there was a reason for one of Her dragons to attack him.

Patton fought the urge to wince as he thought back to the burns on the boy left by the beast. They were healing well but would take time to fully heal. 

In the past few days, Patton had tried to draw out anything the boy could remember, to no avail. The closest Patton got was in helping the boy pick a name, so Patton could refer to him as something other than “kiddo”.

_ “Kiddo . . . I was thinking, can you think of a name for us to call you until you remember your own?” _

_ The child looked up from where he hid his face in Patton’s side, “Vee?” _

_ “V? Hm. How about Veron?” _

_ The boy wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue. _

_ “Varian?” _

_ The boy sighed and shook his head. _

_ “Viran?” _

_ The boy hid his face in Patton’s side and groaned. _

_ “Alright, how about . . . hmm, Virgil?” _

_ The boy’s head snapped up, “That one! That one, Pat!” _

_ “Virgil, it is! It’s nice to meet you, Virgil.” _

_ Virgil grinned widely at Patton and rested his head back against Patton’s side. _

From then on, the boy became Virgil. 

The carriage stopped before them and the coachman climbed down to let them into the carriage. He gave Patton a brief smile but moved as if in a hurry. Patton shrugged it off, knowing the coachman was aware of the urgency.

Virgil stared out the window as the carriage began to move, small hands smudging the window’s glass as he pressed them against it. Patton smiled at the awe in Virgil’s expression.

“Pat, it’s so pretty,” the young boy whispered.

Virgil’s eyes were fixated on the snow falling outside the carriage. Patton watched as he let out a small gasp, as the wind shook the trees and caused snow to fall from the highest tips of the tree tops.

“Oh! Does everywhere look like this?” he asked quietly.

Patton smiled, “Most of the woodlands, yes. Wait until we reach the castle, the view from the towers is breathtaking.”

-

King Thomas was waiting for them when they returned. The King smiled as Patton got out of the carriage with a tired Virgil in his arms.

“Welcome back, Patton!”

Patton smiled tiredly at the King, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“And this is?”

“Virgil, the boy I mentioned in my letter.”

Virgil’s head raised at his name, glancing up at Patton. Patton patted his head.

“You tired, kiddo? Go to sleep, it’s okay.”

Virgil nodded and rested his head against Patton’s chest once more. Patton glanced down to see his eyes flutter shut before looking back up to the King.

“He’s still recovering, but I can confirm he’s covered in burns. A few cuts too, your Majesty.”

“Are you sure it was from a dragon?”

Patton pursed his lips, “I cannot say for certain, but I saved the outfit I found him in for us to look at.”

The King nodded grimly, “We’ll look at it in the morning, the both of you need rest."

Patton agreed. In the past few days, Patton hadn't allowed himself to rest. Once Virgil had woken up, Patton had focused on him, not wanting the boy left alone in his distress and pain. And Virgil never strayed far from him. Patton didn't mind, Virgil was a child and needed comfort. Patton felt responsible for Virgil and wanted to be the one comforting him.


	3. A Story Begins

_ Twelve Years Later _

Virgil refused to acknowledge the Prince as he stormed out of the chambers. He didn’t care about his job as Prince Roman’s manservant. Right now, he was far too fed up with the constant flirtations. Virgil was no fool. He watched the Prince break heart after heart for years. Roman would have his fun and then throw away a partner like trash when he grew bored of their affection.

“Virgil, wait!” Prince Roman called after him.

Virgil picked up his pace and turned down a hallway before ducking into one of the unused guest chambers. He hid under the bed, should the Prince enter. He’d have to face the Prince eventually, but he couldn’t right now.

He refused to allow the prince to see his face this red. Or the tears threatening to fall. He cared for the Prince, but he knew where that path would lead; to his abandonment and heartbreak when Roman grew too bored.

The door cracked open and Virgil held his breath, freezing in his place. Virgil heard the Prince let out a dramatic sigh and close the door. Virgil didn’t dare move until he heard Roman’s boots pace down the hallway for good measure. Even then, the manservant stayed under the bed.

Virgil wasn’t sure what he was going to do. He hated working for the Prince, but he couldn’t let down Patton, who got him the job in the first place. The Head Chef was the closest thing he had to a father and raised him within the castle walls, where he was guaranteed safety. Patton had recommended him to King Thomas as Prince Roman’s new manservant when the previous had left to help his family’s farm. As much as the idea of working for Roman left a sour taste in Virgil’s mouth, he agreed. He couldn’t let Patton down.

Virgil crawled out from under the bed and dusted off his outfit. He adjusted the purple scarf around his neck and pulled his jacket tighter around him. It was time to face the Prince, where he liked it or not. He couldn’t lose this job.

He wouldn’t try for himself, but for Patton.

Virgil exited the empty chamber and went to finish his daily duties. He hoped he could avoid the Prince for a while longer. The castle was about to host a young King from a neighboring kingdom and the preparations had to be perfect. Virgil couldn't have someone like Prince Roman trying to distract him from the preparations.

“Virgil! There you are!”

Virgil groaned and stopped his pace. He turned to see Prince Roman swiftly walking towards him. Virgil didn’t understand why the Prince couldn’t just take a hint and leave him alone. He wasn’t sure how much more flirting he could take until the Prince broke him.

“Hello, your highness,” Virgil said dryly. “If you’d pardon me, I must prepare for your visitor.”

Prince Roman smiled, “In fact, I don’t. You’re my manservant, surely someone else can prepare for this King?”

Virgil forced himself not to grimace. The Prince thought himself more important than the visiting King, who Roman’s father wanted to make a treaty with. It had been years since anyone had seen the royals of the neighboring kingdom, Picais, so there was no telling what the young king might do. They needed to ensure he wouldn’t attack their kingdom and put their outer villages in danger.

“Need I remind you of the importance of this visitor, my Prince?” Virgil asked.

Prince Roman shook his head, “Father will sort it out, there’s no need to worry.”

“Prince Roman! You’re late for your lesson!” Noble Joan scolded as they came down the hall.

Virgil sighed in relief as he turned to face the Noble as they strode down the hall toward the Prince. Beside him, Prince Roman stiffened and let out a quiet whine from the back of his throat. Virgil glanced at Roman to see the Prince focused on Noble Joan with an uneasy expression.

“Surely a visiting royal means lessons are canceled?” Prince Roman asked.

Noble Joan raised an eyebrow, “Your father wants you to review the proper etiquette until it is time to greet our guests.” Joan glanced at Virgil, “And his Majesty wishes to see you, Virgil. There is a task he specifically wants you to handle upon our guests' arrival.”

“Of course, Noble Joan,” Virgil hurried down the hall to make his way to the King’s study.

The King spent most of his time in his study, looking over different plans and treaties. Virgil had no doubt, he was in there refreshing his mind on what was known about the royals of Picais. Virgil didn’t know much about it, only that King Thomas was shocked to receive a letter from the Regent Logan Ashwood, offering a treaty between the two kingdoms once their King came of age to rule.

No one had known a Regent was ruling until that moment. That the King met by King Thomas years ago had fallen and left behind a single heir to his throne. King Thomas had ordered everyone but Noble Joan, immediately out of his throne room, even Prince Roman.

Now the time had come. The newly crowned King was coming to Sandres, most likely with his Regent as his advisor. Virgil understood why Noble Joan and King Thomas would want the Prince on his best behavior. The outcome of this visit was vital in establishing a solid connection between kingdoms to ensure no more surprises like the letter from Regent Logan.

Virgil arrived at the study and knocked on the door to announce his presence.

“Come in,” King Thomas called from within. 

Virgil opened the door and shut it with care. He knelt before the King’s desk and looked down at the rich wooden floors before he glanced up.

“Your Majesty, the Noble Joan said you wanted to see me?”

King Thomas turned around and smiled tiredly, “Hello Virgil. Yes. I have an important task for you. Do you think you can handle it?”

Virgil nodded, not wanting to disappoint the King, and through that Patton. Though Virgil didn’t think he was qualified for any important tasks, he wouldn’t voice this opinion and risk disappointing Patton. Patton was the best thing in his life, and Virgil wanted to repay that. Without Patton, he’d have nothing. He’d be dead.

“I need you to act as the primary servant for the visiting King. All other duties are dismissed, including those to my son,” King Thomas said. “I need this King kept happy and trust you’re the best candidate for the job. Please, do your best.”

Virgil’s eyes widened at the news and he watched King Thomas for a moment, studying the King’s serious expression. He was trusting Virgil with a position that could affect the success of the treaty. If Virgil did anything to offend the visiting King, he risked ruining the treaty. Risked creating a war.

Virgil took a deep breath and released it slowly. Everything needed to go perfectly. No matter what, the visiting King needed to be kept happy. Virgil could do that. He was frightened of the idea, but he could do it.

“Y-yes, your Majesty,” Virgil forced out. “Is that all?”

“You’re free to go prepare for the King’s arrival. All I ask is that you’re present upon their arrival.”

“Of course, your Majesty.”

With that, Virgil stood from his spot on the floor and swiftly left the study.


	4. The King's Arrival

The newly crowned King watched the fields pass him from the inside of his carriage. He bit his lip and glanced to his adviser. He trusted Logan, the man had been his father’s adviser before his death and managed the country as he waited for Remington to come of age to rule. If Logan claimed they needed this treaty, Remington would believe him. He just didn’t like the idea of leaving his homeland yet. If something happened to him, there’d be no one left to rule and his people didn’t deserve to be left without a leader.

He saw King Thomas’ castle come into view and let out a sigh. This was his first diplomatic mission as King. He needed this treaty; his people needed this treaty. The protection King Thomas could offer was too important to lose.

As the carriage came to a stop, Remington spotted King Thomas. The older man wasn’t hard to distinguish from the surrounding knights. He stood proudly, in a formal red tunic with golden embroidery. The crown on his head glistened in the sunlight, freshly polished. Beside the King, a young man stood, dressed in similar attire. Remington guessed he was the King’s son.

Remington took a breath and shut his eyes, before slowly opening them again. The door to the carriage opened and Remington stepped out, with Logan following behind him.

This was it.

“Welcome, King Remington!” King Thomas stepped forward, a smile spread widely across his face. “Your journey was long, I hope it went without disruptions.”

Remington smiled back and glanced back nervously at Logan. The advisor nodded and motioned for him to go forward.

“Thank you, King Thomas. We ran into no trouble on the way. Your countryside is quite a lovely view.”

The older King smiled, “I am glad to hear. And may I ask who your companion might be?”

Remington nodded and motioned back to Logan, “This is my adviser, Logan Ashwood. He managed the kingdom for me until I came of age to ascend the throne.”

Logan stepped forward and bowed to King Thomas, before standing once more. He glanced around the courtyard; Remington knew the adviser was checking for potential dangers. He smiled fondly.

“I believe it is alright, Logan,” he spoke softly.

Logan nodded in agreement.

“He doubts our castle is safe?” asked the King’s son. “Father -!”

“There is nothing to be worked up about, son,” King Thomas interrupted. “They’re a long way from home and the King is young. I’d worry for you if we traveled alone.”

Remington glanced at the Prince, taking in the subtle difference between him and the King. Where King Thomas wore a calm expression, the Prince looked angry. Something had clearly upset him before their arrival. Remington scoffed at the younger man.

“One cannot be too safe,” Logan nodded his head. “We left our knights to protect our people in the King’s absence.”

It was clear to Remington that the Prince did not understand the weight of Logan’s words, but King Thomas did. The greying King pressed his lips into a line, likely thinking of the dangers Picais was in while Remington was away. An empty castle meant the reaction time to invaders was slowed by a weakened chain of command. Remington came here to help strengthen their protection but had temporarily weakened it further.

“Understandable,” King Thomas replied. “Now, you must be tired. Please allow one of our servants to escort you to your chambers. His assistance is available to you throughout the duration of your visit.”

When the King finished speaking, a young man stepped forward from his place near the guards. Remington’s eyes widened as the young man came forward.

“Virgilius?” he questioned, the name falling from his lips before he could stop himself. He glared at King Thomas, “How, how dare-!?”

“Remington, stop,” Logan spoke up, his eyes trailing the young servant before them.

Remington looked back to the young servant, his eyes showing no recognition of Remington or Logan. The young King knew he could not be mistaken. That was his little brother! The one the Dragon Witch claimed to have killed all the years ago alongside his parents. Remington would not mistake that face and those eyes and those ears and freckles! He knew them all!

“Virgil, do you know King Remington?” King Thomas turned to the servant.

A distressed look crossed Virgilius’s expression, “No, your Majesty.”

Nervously, Virgilius’s hand reached up to fidget with his purple scarf. The same color Remington knew Virgilius favored wearing as a young child.

“You do not need to lie anymore, little brother,” Remington stood tall. “We can take you home, where you belong. I refuse to allow Thomas to use you as a lowly servant!”

Remington watched as his younger brother’s face turned red. Remington knew his brother hated scenes and attention, but it was the only way to free him from Thomas’ servitude.

“I- I think you’re mistaken, your Majesty,” Virgilius spoke quietly, eyes fixated on his boots.

Remington shook his head and reached out to place a hand under Virgilius’s chin, making the younger look up. Remington took in every feature, amazed by how much Virgilius had grown, and yet remained the same frightened boy in their years of separation.

“I have not. I’d know your eyes anywhere. They’re the same as Father’s, or have they forced you to forget?” he asked, daring a glance at King Thomas. He looked to the scarf on Virgilius’s neck, “They allowed you to keep something, it seems.”

He dropped his hand from Virgilius’s face and took off the scarf, as Virgilius watched with wide eyes.

“This is matean, the same fabric as my own clothes,” Remington explained, feeling the scarf in his hands. “Well-worn, but not mistakable.”

Remington looked up at the King with an angered expression. He noticed how the Prince stood beside his father enraged.

“Going to say something, young Prince? I’d love an explanation for my brother’s treatment.”

The Prince’s eyes widened and he stayed silent, looking to his father for answers. Remington smirked and looked back at the King. Remington felt Logan rest his hand on his shoulder.

“You’re Majesty, perhaps we should hear the full story before you continue to throw around accusations?”

Remington knew Logan was right, but part of him didn’t care. That part wanted to scream at the other King and drag Virgilius to the safety of their carriage, where they could return home together. Forget their treaty, it didn’t matter if Remington had his baby brother back.

“I believe we have a misunderstanding,” King Thomas spoke slowly. “Virgil had no memories of his past when found in our southern region and we were unaware of any circumstances that led to your separation.”

Remington glanced at Virgilius to see if the story checked out. Virgilius fidgeted under Remington’ gaze and Remington returned the scarf.

“He’s right, your Majesty,” Virgilius put the scarf back on with shaking hands. “I’m no Prince. I can’t remember what happened before Patton found me.”

“Patton?” Remington inquired.

“Our Head Chef, he raised Virgil as a son,” King Thomas explained. “He found Virgil as he was returning from visiting his family in the South.”

“Well, then I’d like to meet the man who raised my brother.”

-

Remington sat opposite of Patton in the castle’s kitchen. He had to admit, the man was far too kind to have hurt his brother. The first thing the man did when Virgilius stepped into the kitchen was embrace him happily.

“King Thomas said you found him in the South?” Remington inquired.

“Yes, your Majesty,” Patton set down a cup of tea in front of Remington. “He was so tiny and his clothing in tatters. He’s lucky he didn’t freeze before I found him.”

One look at the older man’s face and Remington believed it was genuine. Remington glanced at Logan and found the adviser looking at the chef with a soft expression. Remington’ lips curled up as he recognized the look.

“Well, Virgilius, they didn’t kidnap you,” Remington glanced at the younger man. “Perhaps you escaped?”

Virgilius stood near the kitchen counter uncomfortably, hands unconsciously playing with his scarf.

“Escaped what?” Virgilius asked quietly.

“The Dragon Witch. She sent one of her dragons to kill our fathers, you, and me . . . I only survived because Logan was there to pull me to safety.”

Virgilius frowned, “I’m sorry you went through that, Your Majesty.”

Remington frowned at his brother’s response, “Virgilius, call me Remy. I’m your brother.”

“. . . Right,” Virgilius winced, “I just find this hard to believe. I can’t be a prince.”

“Virgil, King Thomas and I examined your outfit from the day I found you, and we thought it was from a dragon attack,” Patton interrupted. “And I had seen one of her dragons that afternoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Virgilius asked, glancing at his adoptive father.

Patton sighed, “I didn’t want to worry you. King Thomas and I hoped we were wrong, but it may be the case. Just, see what comes from this. If King Remington is right, we’ve finally found your family.”

“And I am,” Remy added.

Virgilius sighed, “Okay, Dad.”

“With that settled, Virgil, I would prefer it if you stayed with Remington and I in our guest suite,” Logan interjected. “It is within our best interest to keep you close, should Remington’s beliefs prove true.”

Logan spoke with a tone that left no room to disagree. Remy recognized it from years of living with the older man.

“I’ll make up a bag of Virgil’s things for him, sir,” Patton agreed. “It’s the best way to make sure he’s safe while we figure this out.”

Virgilius bit his lip as his adoptive father spoke. Remy noted his brother looked uncomfortable with the arrangement, but it was within his best interest to stay with them. Remy didn’t trust that no harm would come to his brother while within these castle walls.

“Dad, are you sure?” Virgilius asked in a small voice.

Patton nodded, “Kiddo, I know you don’t like it, but it will be the safest option for you. I wouldn’t ask it of you, if I thought it was a bad idea.”

Virgilius sighed and dropped his shoulders, but gave no argument. 


	5. Talk

Virgil sat on the large bed in the third bedroom of the guest suite. He was glad King Remington and his advisor had given him time alone. Their belief that he was this lost prince couldn’t be right, even with Patton’s added information. Virgil would know if he was a prince. He would know it if he were meant for more than being a servant.

The entire idea was overwhelming. If the idea was right, his fathers were dead and he’d never have the chance to know them. He’d known them once, but the memories never returned. 

Virgil had made peace with his permanent memory loss years ago, but now a familiar sadness coiled in his stomach. Most of his supposed family was dead. And the brother he might have left would barely let him get a word in on the idea.

If he were this lost Prince, it meant the Dragon Witch tried to kill him. The Dragon Witch. The one Prince Roman spoke of in the most frightening of his stories. In the retellings of King Thomas’ narrow escape from her clutches, each one more gruesome than the last. That was the Witch who wanted him dead.

How would such a person react to finding him alive?

No. Virgil couldn’t be this Prince. He was a servant. No background, no brother, no tragic past. Virgil just needed to convince King Remington. Or Remy, as the King tried to make Virgil call him. King Remington would find it all silly once he realized that Virgil wasn’t his dead little brother.

Virgil glanced around the bedroom and laid back on the bed. It was quite comfortable. He would enjoy sleeping on such soft materials while he tried to make the foreign guests see reason. But he missed the small space he kept in Patton’s small quarters. That was what felt like home.

_ Patton. _

Patton who told him to go with these two for now. It was entirely possible Patton was playing along to please the visiting guests, but Patton could truly believe this fairy tale.

Why was Virgil the only one seeing how fool-hearted it was? If Virgil was this Virgilius, the Dragon Witch would have ensured he died. And the village Patton found him was too far from Picais’ border for him to have wandered there.

It didn’t make sense.

“Virgil?”

Virgil glanced up to see Logan standing in his doorway. The servant sat up on the bed.

“Yes, sir?”

Logan smiled tiredly, “Just Logan is fine, Virgil. I wanted to discuss today with you privately.”

Virgil nodded, he hoped Logan felt differently from King Remington. Someone else had to see that this could not be true. There was no way Virgil was a Prince. Even without his memory, Virgil would feel like he was meant for more than servitude if he were the lost Prince. And he didn’t.

“Do you think I’m Virgilius?”

Logan was quiet for a moment, brow creasing as he frowned. He bit his lip before looking over Virgil and focusing on his face, pausing briefly on the scarf around his neck.

“You share many qualities with young Virgilius . . . And you resemble King Emile when he was your age. How were you named Virgil?”

Virgil frowned, “Patton wanted something to call me and when he suggested the name Virgil, it felt . . . right?”

Logan narrowed his eyes at the explanation, “Patton suggested it?”

“I brought up “V” and he came up with V names,” Virgil shrugged. “It wasn’t the first one he came up with.”

Logan’s face relaxed at the explanation and Virgil realized what Logan had thought of Patton. It confirmed Logan’s thoughts on their situation as well. Virgil slumped his shoulders, feeling defeated. If Logan was suspicious of Patton, it meant he truly believed Virgil was Virgilius.

“You really think I’m the Prince, don’t you?” he asked.

Logan nodded grimly, “I’ve seen no evidence to suggest otherwise. I’m merely exercising precaution to protect Remington should this belief prove false.” Logan cleared his throat, “I recognize your reluctance to have this prove true, but I implore you to consider the possibility. For Remington’s sake, and your own.”

“I can try,” Virgil sighed, wringing his hands as he thought it over. “I don’t think it’s true, but King Remington isn’t going to let this go.”

Logan sat down on the bed beside Virgil, “I am not . . . the best with emotions but should you require guidance, I shall do my best to assist you through this situation.”

Virgil shifted on the bed, considering the offer presented to him. He didn’t know if he could trust Patton’s advice after how quickly his father gave into this theory. Trusting Logan may be his best chance to figure out how he could be feeling. At the least, the adviser had considered the situation and admitted his doubts, unlike anyone else.

It wasn’t that Virgil didn’t want to find his family. He spent years hoping they would find him, but as he grew closer to Patton and became more comfortable in his role in the castle, the want faded. It remained, but now Virgil couldn’t imagine a life where Patton hadn’t taken him in. And being a Prince? It didn’t fit that image.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer Logan,” he concluded. “I don’t see how this is more than some coincidence, maybe you can try to explain it in a way I can comprehend?”

“Of course, Virgil,” the adviser spoke softly.

The man reached to his neck and pulled out a chain necklace with a golden locket attached at the end. He opened it to reveal two small portraits of men, one on each side.

“The man on the left is King Emile and on the right is King Dorian, Remington and Virgilius’s fathers,” Logan explained. “Even now, I see the resemblance between you and the late King Emile.” 

Logan took off the necklace to allow Virgil a closer look at the portrait. Logan placed the locket in Virgil’s hands and lifted his hands up to eye-level. Virgil focused on the left portrait, taking in the soft expression of the late King, eyes searching for what Logan saw.

. . . Remington was correct, the King had the same chestnut-colored eyes as Virgil, only his were framed by laugh lines and a thick pair of glasses. And the King had a similar skull structure if the artist had correctly captured King Emile’s image.

Virgil glanced at the other portrait. King Dorian’s eyes were alight with mischief and a small smirk coiled his lips. A burn scar marred the left half of his face, but even so, Virgil could see bits of King Remington in the late King Dorian. And of himself. They had the same nose and hair color; their hair both the same dark brown, mistaken for black a glance.

“I do see a small resemblance,” he whispered.

Virgil couldn’t look away from the two portraits, in awe of the similarities. Something stirred in him . . . was it sadness? Perhaps it was from the knowledge the two men were no longer alive, torn from their family and kingdom too soon. Yes, that was it.

-

Virgil slipped out of the guest suite once Remington and Logan retired for the night, He wanted to clear his head and think about today’s events. Virgil hadn’t had a moment to really consider what happened without someone interrupting. And Logan had provided some new information for him to consider.

He walked down the hall of the castle, trying to imagine having been part of a family ruling over one. There wasn’t much to compare to, King Thomas and Prince Roman were never close. Virgil paused in front of portraits of the two royals. King Thomas sat in his throne with a grim expression and Prince Roman stood beside him stiffly with a forced smile. 

It wasn’t hard for Virgil to tell it was a false smile, he’d spent enough time watching Prince Roman force that smile in the court and drop it immediately when they entered his private chambers.

. . . Virgil didn’t want that life for himself. He knew Prince Roman hated it as well. If Virgil was Virgilius, his happiness - contentedness with his life? - would be traded for a family. He wasn’t even sure he wanted that.

He sighed and shook his head as he walked away from the portrait, continuing down the hall. Virgil stopped when he arrived at the balcony and opened the glass doors to go outside. The autumn air was pleasantly chill against his skin as he walked onto the balcony.

He leaned against the railing and looked up. The sky was clear, allowing him to see the constellations of Orethus and Mediua. He always enjoyed the way Patton crafted their story and described how they overcame the manticore chimera. It frightened him at first until the first time Prince Roman sat in on the story, a month into Virgil’s stay at the castle. The Prince made him act as Mediua and Roman, Orethus, to defeat the monster together. 

Virgil smiled softly at the memory. Virgil didn’t always like the Prince, but that didn’t make him entirely unbearable to think of. Rather, when he wasn’t flirting, his company could be enjoyable. 

Virgil shook his head. He was being ridiculous. How he _ didn’t _ feel for Prince Roman didn’t matter right now. He needed to focus on how King Remington was convincing everyone that Virgil some prince. Once King Remington gave up his fantasy, Virgil could try to figure the Prince Roman thing out.

From behind him, Virgil heard a quiet “oh” sounded out as the door’s hinges squeaked. Virgil glanced over his shoulder and sighed. Prince Roman stood at the entryway in his nightclothes, a silk tunic and pants.

“I didn’t think anyone was out here . . .” Roman mumbled.

Virgil shrugged, “I needed to clear my head.”

“Because of the prince thing?”

Virgil nodded.

“I mean, it seems so odd. Are you sure it’s true?”

Virgil shook his head, “I don’t think so, but everyone else does . . .”

“Then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go along with it?”

Virgil frowned, “I don’t want to live a lie.”

Roman nodded, stepping out onto the balcony and shutting the glass door. 

“Good point,” Roman leaned against the railing. “I suppose you’re right . . . Are you staying here then?”

“. . . I’m not sure,” Virgil looked from Roman and back to the sky. “I think I’d like to.”

Roman sighed, “I’ll miss you if you go.”

“You would?”

Virgil turned to the Prince, trying to hide the shock from his face. Prince Roman could have lied and not cared at all, but Virgil never expected to hear it. Virgil expected Roman to not care or acknowledge their situation. At most, he expected Prince Roman to stop flirting with him, given the protective nature of King Remington.

“Of course, Joyle doesn’t know how I like my evening tea.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Of course.”

“More seriously, Virgil, you’ve known me for years and I enjoy your company. I can’t think of anyone else in the castle who knows me the way you do.”

“Roman, I swear if you’re trying to get with me again-”

“No! No, Virgil,” Prince Roman interrupted. “I overstepped this morning . . . It’s fine, it’s important you know I think more of you than that.”

“Because of the Prince thing.”

Roman frowned, “No, I-I. Virgil, we used to be friends . . . when you started working for me, we lost that.”

“Ever think it was due to your actions?”

Roman paused and stared at Virgil, leaving the question in the air between them. Virgil huffed and crossed his arms as he waited for Roman’s answer.

“. . . Virgil . . . Have I treated you so poorly?” Roman asked in a tender tone.

“Yes!” Virgil exploded. “Me, other servants, those you court! You act so selfishly, as though how you feel is most important! Even today, you were _ more _ important than the visiting _ King! _”

Roman stood before Virgil with tears in his eyes. Roman’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but Virgil shook his head.

“No, for once, you have to listen. You’re right, I’ve known you for years and I watched you hurt person after person! You court lords and ladies, then throw them aside when you grow bored, stringing them along! You disrespect your servants, never thanking them for their aid and demanding that what you require is most important. Today, I needed to help prepare for King Remington’s arrival, but you deemed yourself more worthy of my time.”

“Virgil, I-”

“You’re immature and childish, Roman. And unfit to rule while you continue to act this way. I’ve put up with it as a favor to Patton, but I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“I’ve already heard this from my father, I don’t need to hear it from my _ manservant _,” Roman forced out as he gripped the balcony’s railing tightly. “Especially one who does not listen to me.”

“Fine. Then know, if this proves false? That I quit,” Virgil said, forcing himself to stay calm.

Virgil turned from the Prince and stomped back inside.


	6. Fathers

Virgil sat in the kitchens, watching Patton work the dough for a loaf of bread. He’d come down early in the morning, too early for anyone else to be up yet. He couldn’t sleep after his confrontation with Prince Roman . . . After he quit the job his father promised the King he’d do well. And up until last night, he had.

Virgil laid awake until the first hints of a brightening sky appeared before he slipped out of bed and had come down to find his adoptive father preparing for the day. Watching his dad work always helped him calm down when he was a child . . . And he needed it now. Part of Virgil didn’t want to go, his dad didn’t know what he’d done and Virgil would have to tell him when they saw each other. His dad would be so disappointed in him and Virgil couldn’t stand the idea of it.

“Virgil, kiddo? What do you  _ knead _ from your old Pop?” Patton paused to look over.

“Oh, I, uh, I . . . I think I messed up.”

Patton frowned, “How so?”

“I told Roman I quit last night.”

“Oh.”

Patton was silent for a moment, finishing up the loaf and placing it in the oven. With a glance at the bread loaf in the oven, he came over and sat beside Virgil at the table, scooting onto the bench and talking Virgil’s hand.

“Why’s that?”

Virgil squeezed Patton’s hand, “We, uh, had a disagreement . . . I blew up and quit. Are you mad?”

“Do you still feel like it was the right thing, kiddo?” Patton asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m not sure . . . I was frustrated, but I didn’t need to do it the way I did.”

“Then I’m not mad, kiddo,” Patton whispered.

Virgil shuddered, “Then what are you?”

Patton smiled softly and brought Virgil into his arms. Virgil stiffened in his father’s embrace but relaxed as Patton began to rub circles into his back.

“I’m . . . worried you may be overwhelmed and made a bad decision due to stress,” Patton answered. “I know you don’t believe King Remington, but that doesn’t take away any pressure it puts on you.”

Patton squeezed Virgil tighter for a second before letting go of him. Patton smiled at his son and glanced at the stove.

“The bread should be done soon, do you want some? It was extra dough, so I can do whatever we want with it.”

“Sure, Dad.”

Patton stood from his spot on the bench and picked up his mitts from the counter. He took out the loaf and set its pan on the counter.

“We’ll need to let it cool a bit, but we can have it with some meats and cheese, yeah?” Patton smiled as he took off the mitts. “Oh! We haven’t done this since you started working for Prince Roman!”

Virgil smiled, thinking back to late nights in the kitchen with Patton, as Patton baked extra dough from the weekly supply for them to snack on. Or well, “extra dough” that appeared whenever Virgil had a nightmare or bad day. Virgil loved his father, but his father lacked subtly.

Patton hummed as he sliced up some meats and cheeses as they waited for the bread to cool. Virgil got up and walked over the cupboards to help. He got out a plate and set it beside the cutting board Patton was using. Patton bumped his hip against Virgil as he transferred the meat and cheese over to the plate.

“Thanks, Virgil!” Patton grinned. “Mind getting me the bread knife?”

Virgil opened Patton’s knife drawer and eyed the different knives until he spotted the bread knife. He grabbed it by the hilt and handed it to Patton, blade down.

Patton took the knife and began to slice the warm bread, “Want the first heel?”

Patton sliced down and picked up the heel, holding it out for Virgil. Virgil took it with a smile as the warmth spread in his hands.

-

Prince Roman stood beside his father, as the knights they sent scouting gave their report. A large dragon was wreaking havoc on the villages an hour’s ride to the North of the Castle. Entire villages were destroyed, crops and livestock scorched, and innocent lives lost. Roman shifted uncomfortably at the news and glanced at the King.

“Father-”

“Hush, Roman,” King Thomas interrupted. “We need to send a squad to kill the dragon before further harm befalls our people.”

The King sat on his throne with a deep frown on his face, as he thought over their situation. Roman sighed. He liked it no better. Roman knew how dire the situation was, a dragon was dangerous, especially one killing their people and destroying their food supply. That . . . that was deliberate.

The Witch was up to something. And she wanted them weakened.

“Father, allow me to lead the squad,” Roman insisted. “To make up for my behavior when our guests arrived. And to show our strength, to better affirm our treaty.”

The King turned to his son for a moment, quietly assessing him. King Thomas kept his expression unreadable, not hinting at approval or denial. Roman squirmed under his father’s gaze, waiting for an answer.

“Prince Roman, you shall lead the expedition to defeat the dragon in the North,” King Thomas announced with a loud voice so that their court could hear. “Prepare and leave at once.”

“. . . Thank you, Father,” Roman said quietly.

Roman bowed his head to his father and stepped down from the throne. As he exited the throne room, Roman walked with his head held high, a serious expression on his face. On the inside, he was buzzing with excitement. This was his chance to prove himself to his father! He’d never faced a dragon before, but it couldn’t be harder than the ogres or trolls he had faced.

He went to his room to pack. When his door was closed, Roman let out a cheerful shout. His father rarely trusted him with something with this level of importance. His father trusted him! King Thomas believed he could slay the beast plaguing their people!

“Virgil! My father’s actually letting me lead the expedition!” Roman exclaimed.

After a moment of silence, Roman glanced around, face falling as he remembered. His shoulders dropped and he sighed. 

“Right . . .”

Virgil was gone. He’d quit because Roman was a bad Prince and a bad friend. But now, Roman had the chance to change one of those things.

Roman ran a hand through his hair and huffed. Joyle was off today, so he had to pack his own supplies. Virgil always packed for him when he went on trips with the knights, Virgil remembered every little thing, thought of anything Roman could need . . . Roman wasn’t sure what he needed to pack, but he would have to figure it out.

-

Roman fastened his pack on his horse’s saddle as his squad prepared to set off. He patted his horse on the side when he was finished. The expedition needed to go exactly as planned. Any wrong move could cost him his victory and he had to impress the King.

“Alright, Maximus. You ready?” Roman asked his horse. “This is a big one, and we need to impress my father.”

Maximus huffed and shook his head.

“Yeah . . . I’m nervous too, Max. But we’ve got this.”

Roman stepped forward to pet Maximus’ head. He ran his fingers loosely through the horse’s shiny black mane and Maximus nuzzled into his hand. Roman smiled and pressed his forehead against Maximus’ head. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, allowing his guard to fall for a moment as he took him the feeling of Maximus’ hair tickling his nose and the scent of hay and lavender shampoo to soothe his worries away.

Part of Roman was scared to fail and disappoint his father . . . Another part of him feared failure because of the consequences. The Witch’s Dragon had to be stopped before it harmed his people further. It was Roman’s duty as their Crown Prince to serve and protect his people, something he wanted to do but seemed to never do. 

Roman’s argument with Virgil proved that. If his manservant, who saw him daily and knew him the best, thought of him in such a way, there was no way his people saw him as a hero. He wanted to be their hero, loved by all, but what had he done to deserve it? Nothing.

“Prince Roman.”

Roman’s head snapped up and he looked to who spoke. His father. Roman straightened his posture and stood tall.

“Father.”

The King’s face softened as he looked at Roman. Roman wondered why that was as his father stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Roman looked at the hand in shock before looking back at his father.

“Is there something you need, Father?”

Roman searched his father’s expression for a sign of what he was thinking. The King’s expression was soft, eyes glistening with a fondness Roman hadn’t seen in a long time. His lips were curled into the smallest smile.

“Roman, son, I’m proud to see you taking on this task. But if you’ve changed your mind, I can send Sir Jamahl to lead it.”

“You think I cannot do this, Father?” Roman asked, brow furrowed.

Thomas shook his head, “No, son. I’m merely concerned as you’ve never faced a dragon before.”

“Father, I can do this!” Roman pressed. “Sir Jamahl trained me well, and he is needed here to protect you and King Remington. I swear to you when I return it will be with the beast’s horn to prove my abilities.”

Thomas nodded with unease in his eyes. The hand on Roman’s shoulder dropped to his side.

“If you’re certain, I wish you luck, Sir Roman.”

Roman nodded, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”


	7. The Tea

The tension between Logan’s charges was undoubtedly present as the three sat in the commons of the guest suite. He looked at the two, who sat as far apart as the small couch could allow. Neither spoke. Remy kept himself busy by downing cup after cup of tea and Virgil swirled his tea around in its cup.

Logan thought he made progress with Virgil, yet nothing changed. Virgil denied any possibility of being Virgilius, and while Logan had his doubts at first, the more time he spent with Virgil, the more he became convinced of the truth. Virgil was Prince Virgilius, the little boy he failed to save twelve years before.

If Virgil could not see the truth, Logan would allow him time to consider and process what happened. Logan’s duty was to protect the royals of Picais and Virgil was one of the only two left. Virgilius’s face as the dragon tore him away from Remy’s grasping hands had haunted Logan for years. And now . . . Logan found him, alive and free from the Witch.

Logan watched curiously as Remy glanced at Virgil and set down his cup.

“Virgilius . . . Why don’t you believe us?” Remy asked.

Logan sighed, “Remington, now is not the time for such a discussion.”

Remy’s head snapped up and he focused his eyes on Logan. Eyes filled with anger and confusion.

“Why is that, Logan? You don’t want to find Virgilius? My brother that you couldn’t save?”

Logan’s eyes widened at the remark. He cleared his throat and looked at Virgil, trying to school his expression. Logan let out a low breath.

“Would you mind stepping out for a moment, Virgil?” Logan asked softly.

Virgil nodded and put his cup down as he stood. The young man fiddled with the scarf around his neck as he stepped past Remy to head out of the suite. Remy reached out and grasped the helm of Virgil’s shirt as he passed.

“No, he needs to be here for this, Logan. Virgilius, stay?”

Logan rubbed his brow, looking between his charges. Remy’s face had lost its fury and turned to desperation. Virgil’s had gained a look of frustration and confusion. Logan wasn’t sure what he would do with the situation at hand.

“Alright, Virgil, please stay,” Logan asked. 

Virgil glanced back at Logan, “Do I need to? I’d rather not . . . have this conversation right now.”

“It can wait if you need the time,” Logan said.

Remy went to speak, but Logan raised his hand and he stopped. The two sat in silence as Virgil left the suite.

“What was that, Logan?” Remy hissed. “We’re no closer to getting Virgilius back!”

Logan sighed and shifted to sit back in the plush chair, forgoing his proper posture. He understood how badly Remy wanted this to work out. Logan wanted to find Virgilius and bring him home safely, to atone for his failure to protect him before.

“Remington-”

“I am your King! Why won’t you help me?” Remy interrupted.

The young King furiously rubbed his eyes and drew in on himself, curling in his seat. Logan reached forward to lay a hand on Remy’s knee and the younger violently moved back. Remy cried out and covered his mouth with his hand to silence his own sobs as they began. The young man shook with muffled cries, doing his best to curl away from Logan.

“Remy . . .”

Logan stood from his chair and took Virgil’s place on the couch, settling next to Remy as the monarch cried. After a moment, Remy leaned into Logan’s side and buried his face into the older’s shoulder. Logan took the opportunity to wrap his arms around him and held him close.

-

When Virgil slipped back into the guest suite, Logan had retaken his place in the plush chair. He looked up from the book he was reading to look at the young man and forced his lips into a thin smile in greeting.

“Hello, Virgil.”

“ . . . Hello,” Virgil paused and shifted uncomfortably under Logan’s gaze.

Logan set his book down, “Is something troubling you?”

Virgil glanced at Remy’s door for the slightest moment, but it was enough for Logan to understand. He knew how badly Remy wanted this situation to end with him getting his brother back, but for Virgil? Logan was sure the young man wanted nothing more than to slip back into the shadows, unnoticed by those surrounding him. The constant attention from Remy, it was too much for Virgil, with and without the implications that came with such attention.

“I see. Is there any way I could help ease this?”

Virgil thought on it a moment before answering, “Knowing why Remington is so afraid of letting me out of his sight could help.”

“Remy . . . feels responsible for what happened that night. Although, the responsibility of protecting the child fell onto me, and I failed,” Logan answered.

“Why would he feel responsible?”

“I’ll explain.”

-

_ Logan watched as the two princes played in the courtyard. Young Virgilius running away as Remington chased him with a wooden sword. Remington was older, but not faster. Virgilius swiftly dodged between the potted trees and sculptures, laughing as he went along. _

_ “Catch me, Remy!” Virgilius called back with a smile. _

_ Remy huffed, leaning against a tree, “I’m trying!” _

_ In that peaceful moment, a dragon descended from the sky. It roared and bright, vibrant flames spewed from its powerful jaws. Logan ran forward to grab the princes and get them away as the flames spread around the courtyard. _

_ Virgilius cried out and cowered behind a large sculpture, covering his face with his hands to keep the heat away. Logan kept his eyes on Virgilius as he scooped up Remington and tossed away the wooden sword. A toy such as that was too dangerous to keep around while flames grew around them. _

_ “Virgilius, I’m coming!” he shouted. _

_ As he ran over to the young boy, the dragon swooped down and flames rained down on them. Logan dropped low to protect Remington from the fire and continued his run for the younger Prince. _

_ “Vee!” Remington coughed and reached out. _

_ A glance up showed Logan why. The beast was hovering over the younger prince, the beating of its wings fanning the flames, making them grow. Logan narrowed his eyes in concentration and barrelled forward, twisted as he went through the flames, so they would burn his back and not the boy in his arms. _

_ Finally, he ran in front of Virgilius, putting himself between the princes and the dragon. He set Remington down beside his brother and unsheathed his sword. _

_ “Remington, take your brother and run,” he ordered, daring not to look back and give the dragon a chance to strike. _

_ “But Logan-” _

_ “Go!” _

_ Logan didn’t look back, but heard the two boys run. With that, he widened his stance and pointed his sword at the dragon, ready to go down with it, if that kept the princes alive. The burns on his back ached with unbearable pain when he shifted but he couldn’t give up. Not when he needed to give the children their best shot at getting away. _

_ The dragon snarled at Logan and snapped at him with its teeth. He jumped back and hit the sculpture behind him, crying out with pain. His mind empty as the pain rolled through him. Knees buckling, he dropped his sword to catch his balance. _

_ A wave of wind forced him back again and he screamed, crumbling entirely. When the pain ebbed away, he heard screaming and forced himself up again. Logan looked to the source of the screaming and his heart leaped in his chest. _

_ The dragon was before the princes, cornering them at the edge of the courtyard. Virgilius clung to Remington, as both screamed in terror. The dragon dove down at them and snagged Virgilius in its talons. _

_ Logan scrambled to his feet, forcing his body to move as it protested to rest. He ran forward as Remington struggled to hold onto his brother, his feet dangling off the ground. Virgilius screaming as he struggled against the beast’s hold on him. _

_ The dragon swirled around, attempting to shake Remington off and the older prince’s grip gave out. Virgilius’ shirt slipped out of Remington's hands and Remington fell. Logan dove down, to catch the prince as he hit the ground. _

-

“Remy never forgave himself for not saving his brother,” Logan said soberly. “He lost everything on that day. In my focus to save the princes, I never noticed how the castle burned around us, how it crumbled until the West Wing collapsed and took the Kings with it.”

“The dragon didn’t target the Kings?”

Logan shook his head, “It wanted the princes, Virgilius, you, to be exact.”

Virgil shuddered. Logan pitied the young man before him. Virgil’s grasp of what lead them down this path was so fleeting, so new. He lived his entire life without knowing the danger he could be in until their arrival spoiled his peace of mind.

“So I’m this Virgilius? And the Witch wants me?” Virgil asked quietly.

“Of that I’m certain,” Logan replied.

Virgil fidgeted with his scarf, taking slow breaths as he tried to process, “Why not tell me sooner? Why hide it? Why does everyone get to decide what’s best for me, except me! You, Dad, even the King!”

“King Thomas and your father were unaware of most of the situation. To them, they had no reason to suspect the Witch would have interest in you, once she never came for you. And I . . . hoped Remy was wrong.”

Virgil glared at him, “Why would she have interest?”

“Your father, King Dorian, was once her right hand,” Logan answered calmly. “He was sent to kill King Emile and instead, fell in love. We knew she would retaliate one day, but as time passed, we grew too sure the time would never come to pass.”

“If she wanted revenge, she could’ve killed everyone. Why target me?”

Logan sighed, “To replace King Dorian as her right hand . . . Remy has none of Dorian’s gifts, but you? We never tested you. You were too young when her dragon took you.”

Logan remembered the relief on King Dorian’s face when Remy’s results showed the ten-year-old lacked any magical ability. And the fear in Dorian’s eyes as Virgilius talked to spiders and giggled as if he’d held a conversation with them.

“I don’t have magic. This is crazy. Logan, you have to see that,” Virgil said hastily. “This is all a misunderstanding. I-I can’t be some prince that the Witch is after. No. Just no, I’m sorry.”

Virgil began to walk away when Logan stood and blocked the way to his room in the suite.

“Think on it. How do you think you survived in the snow long enough for Patton to find you, hours later? Or escaped the dragon in the first place? How you manage to slip by, unnoticed like a shadow for years? This close to the Witch’s territory, she should have found you years ago. Virgil, you are Virgilius.”

“No, I’m not!” Virgil shouted, throwing his hand out.

Logan flew back into the wall, bellowing in pain as his back slammed into the stone. He slid to the ground and looked up at Virgil, eyes widening in shock.

“You have magic . . .” he whispered.

Logan forced himself to stand, using the wall to pull himself up. He never looked away from Virgil, trying to process what happened. The young boy he knew showed signs of magic, but nothing strong. That was strong. Untrained, Virgil had the control to throw him across the room, only him, without killing him or breaking anything. Yet it was forceful, strong enough to not be resisted.

“I-I do . . .” Virgil whispered looking at his hands in horror.


	8. Sir Roman

Roman slid off of Maximus’ back and surveyed the area. The village before him was no longer in flames, but smoldering. His group could see the smoke for miles. The beast had been here and they destroyed everything in their path. Not a home or shop was left standing. Everything gone.

“Your Highness, should we look for survivors?” a knight asked.

Roman dropped his shoulders, knowing the chances they would find one, “You may try, but do not expect to find one.”

Roman grabbed his waterskin from Maximus’ saddle and took a drink. Their long ride ended in a village destroyed long before their arrival. He yearned to find someone who survived the dragon’s attack, but any survivors would be long gone. Anyone fit enough to escape would have run from the flames, not waited for a rescue they didn’t know was coming.

The only thing his knights would find was charred remains. He was certain.

Roman knew he needed to try, on the chance there was a survivor, but he refused to get his hopes up. The Prince had never gone against a dragon before, but he grew up on stories of his father’s fights against the Witch from Patton, who knew them secondhand, and from Sir Jamahl, who fought by his father’s side. 

In almost every tale, there were no survivors. Especially after the Witch’s right hand man disappeared. The talented young wizard with scars that marred half his face. No one knew what happened to the young man, whether the Witch did him in or if he ran. Whatever happened enraged the Witch, and her attacks on Sandre’s northern border, intensified, destroying and claiming the land for her own.

Roman put the waterskin away and prepared himself to discovered the charred remains of his people. They were losing land fast to the Witch, whatever had reawakened her fury, it was bad.

“Your Highness, come quickly!”

Roman’s head snapped up and he met eyes with an older knight, skilled and close to retiring to his manor. The man before him grinned widely.

“We found a survivor, if she pulls through, we might find out what the Witch wants,” the knight informed him.

A survivor? It was great news!

Roman forced away his smile and nodded, “Take me to her.”

The knight turned on his heel and led Roman through the charred village, to where the knights had set up a make-shift tent. Roman kept his eyes forward and did not allow them to wander. One survivor was a lucky happenstance, but the rest of the village remained in ruins.

As they approached the tent, Roman could see how hastily his men had put it up. No one thought to put it up before they searched, no one thought they would find a survivor . . . Yet in the tent, laid a woman with burns covering her body and a tired expression. Beside her, a knight helped her drink from a waterskin.

Relief rushed through Roman as he met her eyes. She had survived, the Witch’s dragon had not destroyed everything in its path.

“Prince Roman!” the woman gasped, recognizing the royal embellishments on his armor.

Roman grinned, “Hello, miss. Have my knights treated you well?”

“Oh, of course!”

The tiredness in her expression was replaced with excitement. She tried to sit up, but the knight beside her urged her to lay back down.

“Please, just rest,” Roman insisted. “You’ve been through quite an ordeal. Though, if I may ask, what is your name?”

The woman settled down into the makeshift cot, “Oh, it’s not important.”

“Surely, it is,” Roman said. “I care greatly for all of my subjects, miss.”

“Your Highness, I am not one of your subjects. I hail from the North.”

Roman looked over the woman with a puzzled expression. He knew of no kingdom within the North. The land belonged to the Witch, and she kept few servants, if any. Perhaps, she meant a village further north of this one?

“Pardon me, but what do you mean? There is no kingdom to the North.”

The woman laughed and sat up in the cot, smacking away the knight’s hand when he tried to stop her. Her appearance morphed, skin healing at a rapid rate until there was not a single blemish. Hair spouted from her head and grew, long and dark. She cackled.

“There is one. And it is mine.”

Roman stepped back in horror as the woman changed. Wide eyes fixated on the woman, Roman unsheathed his sword.

“The Witch!”

His men scattered away from the cot as she rose up. She held out her hand and a flame grew out of her palm. The small flame danced in her palm as she stared at Prince Roman.

There was no survivor in this massacre. The Witch slaughtered his people and pretended to be an injured survivor herself!

“Where is your dragon, Witch,” Roman hissed. “The one that plagues my people.”

The Witch smirked at the Prince. Roman felt unsettled. The Witch was this far into their territory and no one had known! Was her dragon a distraction? For what? Had she come to kill his father? Why not attack the castle directly?

Did it have anything to do with their guests? Roman didn’t know much of what happened with the Witch and King Remigton’s people, but if she were after the visiting King, he couldn’t allow her to harm him. Or Virgil . . . No matter how their friendship ended, Roman wouldn’t let the Witch hurt Virgil. Virgil didn’t deserve it.

The Witch looked too comfortable surrounded by Roman and his knights. Roman understood that. He knew the expedition was dangerous, but he could handle a witch. Even the Dragon Witch of his childhood tales. Roman had too. As Crown Prince, it fell on him to protect the people, and he was far too aware of how he’d failed in the past. He couldn’t go back a failure.

“Well, Witch?” Roman asked.

The Witch rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, “Why, it’s right here, young Prince. My, you look like your father, not much of his brains though.”

The Witch roared and began to transform. From her back, two lumps grew at a rapid pace, flaring out to soon reveal wings. Her face elongated. Her skin turned to dark purple scales.

“Men! Be ready!” Roman ordered.

-

Roman fell to his knees, exhaustion overruling his need to stand again. Blisters covered his skin from the heat of the Dragon Witch’s flames. He stared forward at her, using his focus on the Witch to stay awake. He needed to get up. Get up!

The Prince was surrounded by his knights, some he knew to be dead, others he wasn’t sure of. The Witch was stronger than any beast he faced before. The Witch descended from the sky, transforming once more as she came down. By the time her feet touched the earth, she appeared human once more.

“Hush, little Prince. You’re alright,” she came forward.

She placed a hand on his cheek, seemingly caressing it as she pressed into a blister on his face. He howled in pain and flinched away. Roman swayed and tried to remain in place. If he fell entirely to the ground, he knew he would not be getting back up.

“Dearie, I’m not going to kill you,” the Witch drawled. “I’m making sure you get home, nice and safe. To tell your Father and his guests that I am coming. Does that sound good to you?”

Roman growled. And the Witch frowned. Maybe she didn’t, Roman was beginning to struggle for focus. He couldn’t fit whatever she did next. He was too tired, too hurt. He wanted to close his eyes and forget his worries . . .

The Witch reached out and hoisted him up. Roman let out a startled cry, but his body would move against her. She whistled and out of the debris, Maximus came bounding.

“Easy, boy. Wouldn’t want your Prince hurting now?” the Witch said calmly.

Her voice was far too soothing. Roman looked around, blinking slowly. His knights remained unmoving. He had failed them . . . Just like his father was worried about. He let out a quiet sob. His body was too tired to cry, but his heart yearned for the relief it could bring.

The Witch lifted him into the saddle and leaned him forward to rest against Maximus’ neck. A strange green mist settled over him and the Witch hummed.

“Now, I cannot have you falling off before you reach home. Have a safe journey,  _ Your Highness _ ,” she smacked Maximus on the rear and startled the horse into a gallop.


	9. A Brother's Advice

The castle had settled into unrest as they awaited Roman’s return from his expedition to kill the dragon in their northern region. The days following were quiet. King Thomas would check out the window for their return hourly, starting from when he woke in the morning, and ending when he got into bed at night. 

Virgil found himself doing something quite similar. He hadn’t talked to Roman again before the Prince left. And as the days went by, his guilt grew. Sure, he had valid reasons to become upset with Roman, but he should not have addressed them in the way he had. And to blow up, without allowing Roman to discuss the issue? It was immature of him. Just as he accused Roman of being.

Virgil glanced out the window.

And Roman wasn’t even the extent of his worries. He had magic! And now, he could no longer deny who he was. His memories were still gone, but he knew he was Virgilius. Virgil didn’t know what that meant though.

Remington, Remy,  _ his brother _ , had been avoiding him for the last few days and talking to his father left him more anxious than he wanted to be, so he spent his free time wandering the halls. Logan was around on occasion, when he and Remy weren’t busy discussing the treaty with King Thomas, Remy having properly joined the discussion in his avoidance of Virgil.

In the halls, servants that once overlooked him glanced at him and straightened their postures, bowing on occasion. Virgil hated it. He didn’t know what he would do if he went back to Picais with Logan and Remy . . . The remainder of their court would never leave him be.

Virgil sighed and shook his head. Things weren’t going to return to normal, but Virgil wished they would. Before Remy came, things at least made sense, but now he was some prince. With a family, a kingdom wanting him to return home. Home? Virgil wasn’t sure where that was now.

The Virgil who called King Thomas’ castle home was a servant with no family or magic. Virgil was no longer that person. He had this whole other part of himself to learn about. Virgilius was a child when he was taken, what would he have grown to be if he stayed in Picais?

Would Virgil be close with Remin- Remy? Would King Dorian have taught him to understand his abilities? Would he even know his father? Or Roman?

Virgil would never know. He missed so much with his birth family . . . He couldn’t remember the voices of his fathers. The man he should know as a brother felt like a stranger.

As Virgil continued down the hall he glanced out the window, but the castle gates remained closed and Roman was nowhere in sight.

Roman went after the Witch’s dragon, which appeared too closely to their discovery of Virgil’s family for his comfort. Was he the cause of the attacks? He didn’t want to be. It would mean Virgil was at fault for the attacks on the villages.

There was no guarantee that the knights on the expedition would return unharmed either. No guarantee that Roman would return unharmed. What he wouldn’t give to have this visit never happened. No . . . Maybe? Virgil wasn’t sure. He was interested in learning of his family now, but if it came at the cost of innocent lives, it might not be worth it.

He took a shaky breath, “Everything’s going to be fine . . . Roman’ll be fine.”

“Sure he will, Vee.”

Virgil turned on his heel to see Remy striding down the hall, eyes focused on him. His brother looked better than he had in days, though in the last few days Virgil had only gotten glances of the man. Today, Remy didn’t cower or excuse himself from the room when Virgil appeared. 

“Though, I’m more concerned about you,” Remy spoke softly. “And Virgil, you’re not okay right now.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, “That’s pretty obvious. I just realized your foolish fairy tale is real.”

Remy flinched and Virgil regretted his words. He took a breath and held out his hand.

“I think it’s time we talked this through. Just the two of us?” Virgil offered. “I don’t know how I feel about this and it’s weird, but I want to know what’s going on. And I think you need this too.”

Remy smiled softly at his brother.

-

The two were settled onto the couch, as they had days before. Rather than sitting far apart, they sat next to each other with a plate of scones on the table before them. Remy glanced at Virgil, who’s shoulder relaxed and he sat back.

“Logan told me what happened . . . The day we got separated,” Virgil started. “I’ve been trying to process it the past few days. But I want you to know that don’t blame you.”

Remy took one of the scones off the plate and picked at it, “I do . . . I should’ve held on tighter.”

Virgil frowned, “From what Logan said, if you had, the dragon could’ve taken you too.”

Remy paused, thinking over what Virgil had said. He stuffed a piece of the scone into his mouth and ate it slowly as he thought that over. What would’ve happened to his kingdom if the entire family had disappeared . . . The aftermath had been so terrible, his people were terrified and in mourning of their Kings and youngest Prince. Logan had worked so hard to keep things running, as he tried to recover from his injuries. 

And Remy couldn’t do anything. He was only ten when it happened. Their entire court looked to him when his fathers died. A burden that would’ve crushed him without Logan’s guidance.

But Remy also remembered toasts and prayers of thanks, that one member of their royal family was spared. He always hated hearing it. But it gave his people hope, because he had survived.

“You have a point,” Remy said softly. “I remember how grateful our people were that I survived . . . That they weren’t without a leader.”

Virgil pressed his lips into a thin smile, “I can’t remember that day, but I think it’s a good thing you fell, that you survived to inspire the people. If you hadn’t survived, the kingdom would’ve been thrown into chaos.”

Remy nodded, “I guess you’re right, Vee . . . Can I call you that? I didn’t ask, but I know you don’t like Virgilius.”

Remy used to never call his brother anything other than Vee. It was theirs. And now, he had his brother back. He waited for an answer as Virgil snorted in amusement.

“Of course . . . I told you how when Patton found me and needed a name, that I said Vee for the name, right?”

Remy grinned, “I don’t think you did. But really? You remembered that part?”

Remy’s eyes shone with excitement. Vee was alive and part of him still remembered being his brother. 

“It felt right,” Virgil answered. “I’ve never known why.”

Remy didn’t remember how the nickname started, he supposed “Virgilius” was too big a mouthful for a toddler to manage. But it held a lot of value for him. He loved Virgil. His brother was his best friend growing up. They did everything together.

Losing their fathers and Virgil, it was the worst thing to ever happen to Remy. He missed them everyday, cried for them for years, before the pain dulled. But seeing his brother alive, and standing before him with no recognition in his eyes, hurt as much as losing him the first time.

“Maybe, one day, you will,” Remy said. “Do you want to hear about our Fathers?”

Remy watched as Virgil’s eyes widened and nodded. Remy knew Logan had briefly discussed their fathers with Virgil, but Remy could do a better job. Logan didn’t know about their late nights with Baba as the man fiddled with potions, letting the boys watch as the smoke changed from white to red to purple to blue. Logan didn’t know how Dad made them laugh and discussed their nursery books with them.

“Baba loved magic, but he’d never let us try it. He always said we could wait until we were ten and able to test for the gift. I didn’t have it,” Remy chuckled. “I was devastated for about a week, before going back to my wooden sword. And you? You used to talk to spiders, I thought it was the coolest thing.”

Virgil paused, thinking back to how the spiders would leave the kitchen pantry when he went in for Patton. His Dad was terrified of the creatures, but they never bothered him. Odd.

“Baba didn’t like talking about how you could do that,” Remy stuffed another piece of scone into his mouth.

Virgil hummed, “He was worried about the Witch, maybe?”

Remy paused and looked over at him, awkwardly staring for a moment. Remy looked away and went to continue his tale.

“Maybe he was. I didn’t know he worked for her until I was King,” Remy admitted. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yes,” Virgil agreed eagerly before launching into a story of his childhood with Patton.


	10. A Disastrous Return

Sir Jamahl was finishing his rounds for the morning shift. His knights were on high alert until the expedition lead by Prince Roman returned. No trouble had appeared since the expedition’s departure, but the castle defenses did not lighten. Not as King Thomas grew more anxious with each passing day. Sir Jamahl was sure that if the King could, he would increase the guards on the castle tenfold.

He couldn’t blame the King. Jamahl had been Captain since before the Prince’s birth and the death of the King’s partner. He lead the knights alongside his King in their attempts to keep Sandres safe from the Witch’s grasp. If she was making trouble again, it was no good. The new generation of knights weren’t ready to take the Witch on. Her dragons, perhaps, but not the Witch.

“All’s clear,” a knight called from the tower. “W-wait! Sir, someone’s coming!”

Jamahl kept a hand on his sword’s handle and waited for their approach. His eyes stayed locked on the horizon until a familiar horse came running at him, with a far more familiar young man clinging to him.

“Prince Roman!” Jamahl dropped his hand from his sword and ran for the two. “Get the physician!”

Jamahl stopped before Maximus, who whined and huffed, throwing his head about in a panic. The poor creature was frightened beyond belief and his tan body was covered in soot. Jamahl reached out and managed to place his hand on the horse’s snout, patting him gently.

“Easy boy, we’re going to help you both, okay?” Jamahl grabbed the reins with his other hand. “He’ll be okay. You did good getting him home, Maximus.”

The horse settled and Jamahl moved onto the Prince. His heart sank at the sight. The Prince was covered in blisters and burns. Tuffs of his auburn hair were burnt from fire, and his metal armor deformed. The young man didn’t move and Jamahl feared the worst, before checking Roman’s pulse.

He sighed in relief when he found it. The Prince was alive . . . but so was the dragon. For now, Jamahl needed to focus on the Prince. He picked up Roman as the court physician, Gaius, approached, followed by two young apprentices carrying a cot. Jamahl set Roman onto it with care and looked to Gaius.

“Give the Prince your utmost attention. He needs it if he is to survive.”

The physician nodded soberly, “I remember the old days, Sir Jamahl. I will start at once.”

Jamahl nodded, confident that the Prince was in the best hands in the castle. He remembered countless nights spent in the infirmary, after dragon battles gone wrong, under the care of Gaius.

“Thank you . . . now, I must inform the King.”

The physician hurried off with the Prince on the cot. Jamahl could hear the elderly man from across the courtyard as he ordered the apprentices, Mer and Lin, to hurry, lest they be responsible for the death of the Prince.

Jamahl watched them disappear into the castle walls before he went to see the King. Thomas was a dear friend and Jamahl loathed the idea of delivering this news to him.

-

Thomas paced his personal study, regretting allowing Roman to lead. His son was so confident when the expedition left, but Thomas knew better than to believe that confidence was equal to ability. Now, there was nothing he could do, short of riding out himself. And Thomas couldn’t. He had a kingdom full of people who needed him to lead them through this situation.

He needed to have faith in his son’s abilities. Sir Jamahl had trained the young man to the best of his abilities. Roman was strong and skilled with a sword. He was foolish and young, but Thomas had been when he faced the Witch too.

Until he heard otherwise, the King had to believe his son was capable of handling the situation. Roman would come home with the dragon’s horn as a prize, just as he claimed he would.

. . . Perhaps King Thomas should have paid more attention to his son over the years. His heart ached as he thought of their interactions of late. Formal and stiff, harsh and disappointed, until the conversation before Roman left. Only showing his son an ounce of care before he left on an expedition far more dangerous than any he’d faced before then.

A timid knock rapped on his door, “Your Majesty?”

Thomas turned his head and stood taller. Jamahl must be updating him on the rounds, it couldn’t be much, it had been quiet since Roman’s expedition departed.

“Come in, Sir Jamahl.”

The door opened and Jamahl stepped in, a somber expression on his face. Thomas knew it meant nothing good.

“Is something wrong?”

Jamahl shifted where he stood, “Your Majesty, Roman’s returned . . . but he’s badly injured. No one else from the expedition has made it back.”

Thomas stared at Jamahl, feeling a wave of cold wash over him. The expedition was a failure. Roman was hurt, his knights could be dead. The dragon was still coming. Most importantly, his son was hurt.

“How bad is it?” the King murmured. “What happened?”

Jamahl sighed, “Sire, I think you should see for yourself. The physician took him for treatment, but he was unconscious.”

“Thank you, Sir Jamahl,” Thomas said. “Please inform Noble Joan of what’s occured. I-I need to see Roman.”

Thomas swiftly walked out of his study. He strode down the halls to the infirmary. When he was there, he opened the door quietly and peaked inside. On the cot, Roman laid still, covered in bandages and salve. Thomas gasped and stepped inside.

The court physician was working at Roman’s side, cleaning the last of his wounds before he could bandage them. The elderly man looked up at the King as he approached and set down his wet cloth.

“Greetings, Your Majesty. I am nearly done,” Gaius whispered.

Thomas knelt at Roman’s other side and ran a hand through his uneven hair. Tears swelled in his eyes as he thought of how close he’d come to losing his son and how dismissive he’d been of their time together. His son looked awful, but Thomas hoped he would heal.

Thomas spent Roman’s entire youth focused on what Roman needed in his future. Making the kingdom stable for his son. Trying to mend what the Witch had done to their land, so Roman wouldn’t have too. In this, Thomas abandoned all ideas of spending time with his son. Rarely taking a day to spend with his child. And now the future he worked for could never come.

Gaius called for one of his apprentices, who came running with a pitcher of water and a wooden cup. The physician took the two from his apprentice as Thomas watched and set them on the counter beside him.

“I’ve done what I can for now, Your Majesty,” Gaius said softly. “Would you like time alone?”

Thomas nodded, unable to find words to speak. Gaius smiled and stood, reaching for his cane.

“If he stirs, try to get him to drink. He’ll be dehydrated from his burns and journey.”

Once the physician spoke, he walked off leaving the King alone to weep over his injured son.

-

Thomas held Roman’s bandaged hand with care. The King wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but it was long enough for the sun to set and day to become night. Roman hadn’t stirred once and his hand remained limp in Thomas’. Thomas would give his kingdom for his son to open his eyes or move in the slightest.

Thomas sighed and continued his vigil, waiting for the slightest sign. Mind plagued by his failings to his son, he hadn’t moved since he first sat down or touched the cold dinner left beside him. The physician had returned for moments to check and replace Roman’s bandages, but allowed the King his privacy.

A quiet, hoarse groan brought him forth from his thoughts. Roman’s eyes were still closed, but he shifted in his sleep. Thomas let out a sob in relief.

“Roman, can you hear me?” he asked.

Roman forced his eyes to open and looked up, blinking slowly. It took a moment, but then he recognized his father and tried to sit up. Thomas didn’t have to try hard to keep Roman from sitting up.

“Easy, Roman. Do you remember what happened?”

Roman opened his mouth to speak and winced, hand weakly moving to touch his throat. Thomas noted it and let go of his hand to fill the wooden cup on the counter with water. He pressed it to Roman’s lips and supported his head to help him drink.

When the cup was emptied, Thomas pulled the cup away and set it down on the counter. 

“Father, I failed you. The Witch, I couldn’t beat her,” Roman said shamefully.

“You went after the Witch? Son, what about the dragon?”

Roman avoided his gaze, “She is the dragon. I-I’m sorry.”

Thomas wasn’t sure how to react. The Witch was attacking his villages, personally. She nearly killed his son. His son who laid before him, too weak to sit up and too ashamed to look at him, was the only member of the expedition to return home. 

Thomas shook his head, “There is nothing to apologize for, Roman. You weren’t ready and I let you go. It is I who should apologize to you.”

Roman looked tired, but more so, confused.

“Roman, we will discuss it again when you are well, but I want to say it now. I’ve been too dismissive of you, telling myself that focusing on my duty to our kingdom would benefit you. But I was wrong, I should’ve been finding a balance and it shouldn’t take you going on a dangerous expedition for me to realize that. I love you so much, it was killing me to know I sent you off on that expedition . . . And to see you like this? I’m sorry and I’m going to be better for you.”

Thomas wiped his eyes as he teared up and clasped Roman’s hand again. Roman gave his hand a light squeeze and Thomas looked at his son again. Roman gave him a tired smile.

“I understand, Father,” Roman said. “I haven’t been the best Crown Prince, but we can both work on it.”

Thomas leant down to kiss Roman on the forehead, something he couldn’t recall happening for years. He needed to rectify that. It wasn’t fair to Roman or himself for him to deprive them of the relationship there should be between them. He wanted Roman to feel comfortable around him, to turn to him when he needed help or advice, it was Thomas’ job as a father.

“I think you should rest first,” Thomas said gently. “You’ve done your best today.”


	11. The Witch

With knowledge that the Witch was coming, Thomas sent the castle into high alert. The knights needed to be ready for battle at a moment’s notice. They were down several men, but it didn’t matter. There was no choice. The Witch wouldn’t give them time to prepare. Now that they knew she was coming for them, she would hasten her journey. No longer destroying random villages, she’d come for the castle.

Thomas spent what time he could by Roman’s side. It would take time for Roman to recover from his encounter with the Witch. He would still be bedridden when she arrived, Thomas was sure. The idea terrified him. Roman couldn’t run if there was a need to.

But Roman wouldn’t be alone, even if Thomas didn’t have the time to sit with him. Patton and Virgil took turns staying with the Prince. He slept most of the time, but if they needed to flee, either man could help him get up and go.

Thomas had just left his son and let Virgil take his place at his bedside. The King knew the two had a conflict and was grateful Virgil put it aside to help. Though Thomas only found out when Roman soberly mentioned it to him when he asked Roman about Virgil.

Whatever happened between the two had hurt his son, but Thomas couldn’t solve it for them. They had to fix it for themselves. 

Thomas looked around his courtroom. Anxious young knights and experienced old knights stood tall, listening as Sir Jamahl gave them their orders. Near Thomas, Logan listened on. The man kept a neutral expression as they worked to prepare for the danger. 

Thomas wasn’t sure if the man had slept since Roman’s return with the news. Logan was determined to protect his charges and Thomas wasn’t going to stop him. He didn’t think he could if he tried. King Remington and Virgil were Logan’s priorities and Logan would not be swayed on where the two young men would go if the Witch attacked.

“- dismissed!” Sir Jamahl finished and looked back at Thomas.

Thomas nodded his head and the knights cleared from the courtroom. The only knights not present at the meeting were on watch duty, looking for the Witch, whether she came from land or sky. They needed as much a warning as they could to have a chance.

As the knights exited the courtroom, they parted down the middle as a young knight with wide eyes ran into the courtroom.

“Your Majesty! A dragon has been spotted in the distance from the North!”

Thomas resisted the urge to shudder and took a breath, “Everyone, places.”

-

Virgil sat beside Roman, curled in the chair as the Prince slept on. Roman was never awake when Virgil was the one on watch. Virgil found it curious, but understood that Roman needed rest to recover from his injuries.

He wished Roman would be awake for once, so they could talk, but it could wait. Talking with Roman about their fight would help put his mind at ease, if only the slightest. Virgil knew he said a lot of things that were untrue and true things that could’ve been better discussed. Both were at fault for the argument, but Virgil started it. So he wanted to apologize first.

“You’re going to sleep forever, huh, Princey?” he asked quietly.

Virgil glanced at the window of Roman’s room to see the knights assembling with haste. The movements were far too eratic to be one of Sir Jamahl’s drills. Virgil stood from the chair beside Roman’s bed and ran to the window, looking out it. In the distance, he could see a dragon. His eyes widened at the realization that the Witch had finally arrived.

“Jeemeanettie,” he whispered.

The door to Roman’s door was thrown open and Virgil whipped around to see who it was. Logan stood on the other side of the doorway, red in the face like he’d run there, with Remy trailing behind him. The older man straightened his posture and focused his eyes on Virgil.

“We need to get you to safety. Let’s go.”

Virgil looked back at Roman, “Help me with Roman.”

“Virgil, there isn’t time. We need to go.”

“ _ And _ we will. Now, help me with Roman. I’m not leaving him,” Virgil pressed.

Logan hurried to Roman’s bedside with a huff. He picked up the Prince and looked at Virgil with a dissatisfied expression. Roman whimpered in his sleep as Logan’s hold on him shifted his wounds.

Virgil’s face softened as he glanced at the Prince. He walked out of the room with Logan trailing behind him. In the hallway, Remy gripped is hand tightly.

“I’m not losing you this time,” Remy said.

Virgil frowned as they hurried down the hall. From outside, he heard a roar and the hiss of flames. Men were yelling, screaming.

_ “Where is he!” _

A shrill woman’s voice demanded. The voice was so loud, Virgil ripped his hand from Remy’s to cover his ears.

_ “Give him to me!” _

Her voice pulsed through the air as she made her demands. Each syllable making Virgil feel as though his ear drums would burst.

Remy grabbed his arm, but didn’t pull his hand away from his ear, “She can’t have you.”

Virgil stumbled as the Witch’s voice continued to pulsate. His knees hit the floor with a thump, dragging Remy down with him. Virgil felt nauseous, bile building in his stomach and threatening to rise. His head pounded and his vision blurred.

He needed it to stop. Stop.

_ “Stop!”  _ he shouted.

_ “There!” _ the shrill voice exclaimed.  _ “I’m coming, my dearie!” _

Virgil forced vomit back down and stood with weak knees. He breathed through his nose to avoid his gag reflex. The air in the hallway pulsed. She was coming.

“Virgil-” Logan started.

Virgil interrupted, “You need to go, Logan. Take my brother and Roman.”

“I’m not losing you again!” the older man shouted.

“As your Prince, I order you to  _ go _ ,” Virgil hissed.

Logan shot him a betrayed look and took a step away when the wall to the outside blew off. Virgil stepped forward and watched as the dragon became a dark haired woman. She smiled at Virgil with false kindness and he narrowed his eyes at her. 

“My dearie, there’s no need to be hostile,” she cooed. “I’ve come to take you home.”

Virgil hissed, “No. You took me from mine.”

She sneered and looked past him to Remy. Virgil shifted in front of his brother, who still gripped his arm.

_ “You want me, you leave him alone, Witch.” _

Virgil’s voice pulsed in the way the Witch’s had and her face lit up. She clasped her hands together and leaned forward.

“You are like my darling Dorian! Excellent!” she smirked. “You need work, but we can fix that.”

The Witch unclasped her hands and lifted a hand to point it at Logan and Roman as a fire grew in her palm. She met eyes with Virgil with a triumphant look on her face.

“Be a shame if the Prince died now, when he fought so hard to come home,” she mused. “He doesn’t have to, not today. Your choice, my dear.”

Virgil nodded, “You’re right. He isn’t dying today.”

Virgil wasn’t going with the Witch, but he wasn’t going to let her kill Roman either. He held out his hand for her to take, trying to think of a solution. He wasn’t entirely sure about the gifts he inherited or how to use them, but he would come up with something.

“Vee, don’t do this,” Remy pulled back at him.

Virgil glanced over his shoulder at his brother and saw a glimmer around the corner, “Remy, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

Virgil had a solution. If the Witch hadn’t noticed. First, he needed to get her away from his family. He could throw her the way he did Logan, only he didn’t know how to do that.

He had to try.

He allowed the Witch to grab his hand and shut his eyes. He squirmed at the feeling of her boney hand in his. He wanted to run away. To leave them and never return. If he failed, he would never see his family new and old, again.

She pulled on his hand, forcing him towards the destroyed wall. He tried to remember how it felt to use his magic on Logan. He needed that. 

“You’ll do so well, as my little apprentice. Soon you won’t even care for these fools. You’ll be their downfall. Just you wait, killing that Prince will be easy,” she told him. “It’ll be the first thing I’ll have you do.”

His stomach fell. The Witch wanted to make him as vile and twisted as her. He opened his eyes and glanced at the corner again. He met eyes with King Thomas, who nodded and raised the sword in his hand.

“No, I won’t,” he said.

“No? Dearie, I know it seems wrong now, but you’ll get there.”

No, I won’t!” he forced and pushed at her. 

Virgil’s stomach twisted and the Witch went flying down the hall. He clasped a hand over his mouth and swallowed bile as she screamed. He looked up to see King Thomas round the corner and stab her in the chest as she landed on the ground, refusing to give her a moment to recover.

The King pulled his sword out roughly and put it through her chest again. She went limp on the ground and Thomas withdrew his sword from her chest.


	12. Goodbyes

Roman was still confined to bed rest after the Witch’s attack, which he can’t believe he slept through. Whatever Gaius gave him was strong, no doubt. The Witch tried to kill him and he didn’t even stir! He chuckled and shook his head as Virgil told him.

“Virgil,” he said quietly. “Thank you for saving me.”

Virgil paused in his retelling, “It’s no problem, Roman . . . I know we’ve had our disagreements, but that doesn’t mean I’d let you die.”

“About that,” Roman chuckled nervously, “I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted in the past.”

Roman’s shoulders dropped as he spoke. The way he treated those he courted never felt right because it wasn’t. Usually, he became obsessed with them and their attention and by the time he realized it wasn’t what he wanted, it was too late to end things in a simple way. Thinking of it now, it was no wonder Virgil turned him down, even if the way he felt for Virgil actually was different than that.

Virgil’s face softened, “Thank you, Roman.”

Virgil looked unsure of what to say next, face shifting as he mentally tried out the words. Roman wasn’t sure what he needed to say, but understood it held value for his friend.

“I need to apologize too. Roman, I shouldn’t have exploded the way I did,” Virgil sighed, looking at his hands. “We’re lucky I didn’t hurt you . . .”

Roman frowned at that. He hadn’t seen Virgil’s abilities in use, Virgil preferring not to use them, but he knew the stories of Virgil’s father while he worked for the Witch. The man was powerful and Virgil had the potential to be just as strong. Roman didn’t mind either way, though the abilities could prove fun, if given time to develop.

“You haven’t hurt me, Virgil,” Roman whispered. “From what I’ve heard you  _ saved _ me. We’ve both messed up, okay?”

Virgil nodded and Roman smiled.

“When do you leave? I’m sure my Father and your brother have finished the treaty by now.”

“They signed it this morning, before you woke up. We leave tonight.”

Roman forced a smile. Virgil was finally going home to where he belonged. No matter how he felt about Virgil, Roman had to be his friend and be happy for him. Virgil could reclaim the life the Dragon Witch stole from him . . . It did mean that Virgil leaving though. And that? That sucked.

“Oh,” he pulled at a loose string in his blanket, looking away from Virgil. “That’s great. Wonderful.”

Beside him, he heard Virgil sigh and he glanced back at him, before continuing to fiddle with the string. Virgil frowned and stared at him with concern in his eyes.

“You don’t have to be happy about it, Roman. I know you don’t want me to go.”

Roman bit his lip and looked up at Virgil, “I do! You should spend time in your kingdom and reacquaint yourself with your people. It’s an important duty . . . But I will miss you, I’ve always meant that.”

Virgil reached out and took Roman’s hand in his. It was still bandaged, but on the way to recovery. Gaius had warned it would take time and patience for him to heal.  _ Patience _ being the key. Both young men knew too well how soon Roman would throw himself back into training after an injury.

“I’ll miss too,” Virgil said. “And, you won’t be rid of me forever, I’ve got to see my Dad.”

Roman laughed quietly, “You’ll visit me too?”

“Nah, I’ll just meet Dad at his Ma’s house,” Virgil deadpanned.

Roman’s eyes widened before he realized what tone Virgil spoke with. He laughed in relief and squeezed Virgil’s hand tighter.

“So, are we friends again?” Roman asked.

Virgil smilied, “Friends. Maybe more, one day, but not today. Are you okay with just that?”

“I am, Virgil,” Roman said quietly. 

His feelings were beyond friendship, but he was okay with it. Even if Virgil agreed to a proper courting, neither of them were in a place that would allow them to pursue one. And that was okay.


	13. Sequel!

Hello! The sequel is now up and completed! It was my submission for the 2020 Big Bang this year. It should be next in this series. Enjoy!


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